


I In- As You Ex-Hale

by elutherya



Series: Backstitch [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sequel, Sexual Content, cawllection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elutherya/pseuds/elutherya
Summary: When Hongjoong first laid eyes on Seonghwa, he knew that he'd found someone he wanted to model his designs. When Seonghwa first saw Hongjoong, he'd never seen someone so striking. Somehow, between fittings and a fashion show, they'd fallen together and now, Seonghwa wouldn't trade it for the world.





	I In- As You Ex-Hale

**Author's Note:**

> Hhhhh, okay, so sequel... yeah, that happened. And finished ten minutes before their third comeback. Someone please save me, I'm so tired. Anyways, I don't remember why this happened, just that I went "huh, I want to write more in this verse", so I did.
> 
> My CAW darlings, I adore each of you to the moon and back! Without you, I would not have finished anything that I've written in the last few months. Also a huge shout out to everyone who was part of the whole "tit punching" debacle. That spelling error in the preview I posted on twitter got the funniest responses and I couldn't open this fic without laughing about "tit punch man". So here's to you, my twitter timeline. Y'all are fucking wild and I adore you all!

When Seonghwa arrives in Milan, he’s weary from a sixteen hour flight with a layover in France. The three hours spent between flights hadn’t been enough time for him to do much more than stretch, find a late lunch and settle in for another two hour wait as people bustled around him. It was a long time to be sitting on a plane, so finally stepping out of the airport is a relief.

His phone feels like a heavy weight in his pocket when he finally steps outside. It’s a weight that he’s quick to give up on carrying, as he shoves it down into the depths of his bag. He knows it won’t ring, not when he’s switched it off and his agency had given him two weeks leave. That doesn’t stop guilt from sitting heavy on his shoulders. He feels like he should be going to auditions and callbacks, waiting for his phone to ring so he knows where his agency wants him next.

Even asking for the two weeks to travel had been a lot, despite being with the agency for a year and a half now. It had been San, perched so primly in front of him under harsh fluorescent lights with a makeup brush in his hand, that had talked him into even asking for the time off.

“You should go,” he’d said, smoking out Seonghwa’s eyelids with a shimmery purple eyeshadow. “Your life can’t just be work. You need to live and not let them burn you out. If you don’t, you’ll end up losing yourself and in this industry, there’s very few people who can find their way back from that.”

San had paused there, staring past Seonghwa with his lips pulled into a frown. The room had been loud around them, the other stylists working on models and filling the dressing room with noise. But with how still and silent San had fallen, it made it all seem so far away.

With a small shake of his head, San had looked at him, back to smiling. “Hongjoong would like if you went to see him. He doesn’t like being alone.”

It had been the final push Seonghwa had needed, and even now, hailing a taxi, they’re the words that ring through his head.

The taxi ride to the hotel from the Malpensa Airport isn’t long, but he still finds his head lulling against the window as they drive. It’s only just turning dusk, but his internal clock is still telling him that it’s one in the morning and that he should have long since been in bed.

He’s glad for the fact that the taxi driver and the hotel receptionist both smile as he fumbles his way through his limited English. He wants nothing more than to be up in his room already and he’s too tired to feel embarrassed for how he stumbles over his words.

When the receptionist finally passes over his room key, he smiles and thanks her. It feels heavy in his hand as he makes his way to the elevator and up to his room. He’s the only one in the elevator and he can’t help the way his fingers tap an unsteady rhythm against his suitcase.

_One. Two. Three._

He counts the floor numbers as they go up, ignoring the way his stomach lurches at the upwards momentum.

_Four._

The doors slide open silently and Seonghwa’s quick to push out into the hallway. There’s two people waiting, but they shift to the side to let him spill out. He shoots them a small smile, eyes already darting up to the numbers on the doors. He double checks the cardkey in his hand, thrilled for when he finally finds his room number.

It takes two attempts to get the cardkey to work, and when he finally steps into the room, he’s blasted by a wave of cool air.

It’s nice, done up in whites and pale creams. It doesn’t feel like home, but from where he’s standing, the blinds are already drawn back and the view is more than enough to make up for that fact.

Turning on the light, he doesn’t bother investigating the space yet. Instead, he settles his suitcase on the bed, unzips it and pulls out his clothes, one piece at a time. He tentatively smoothes them out, before pulling hangers out from the closet and draping them over the wires. As soon as the last shirt is hung, he zips his bag back up and tucks it off to the side.

As much as he wants to crawl into the bed, he shuffles to the bathroom instead, toeing off his shoes outside the door. He pulls at his worn hoodie and jeans, leaving them puddled on the floor thoughtlessly. They’re unimportant, pieces pulled from the bottom of his wardrobe for comfort and not pieces made by nimble hands, for him.

He trails a hand over the bottles lining the bathroom counter, plucking a familiar bottle of shampoo up before twisting to get into the shower. He turns the water hot, lets the heat sink into his muscles, sore from sitting for so long on the plane.

He washes slowly, takes his time. Works the shampoo into his hair until it’s all he can smell and he feels clean again. Even then, he stays under the spray for a handful of minutes, feeling no need to rush.

Dragging back the shower curtain, he looks back towards the bottles lining the sink, before reaching for one of them. It fits neatly into the palm of his hand and it’s as familiar to him as the bottle of shampoo had been. From the dent in the side of the bottle, he’s sure that it’s the same bottle that’s been missing from his nightstand drawer for the last two weeks.

Seonghwa pops the cap on the bottle of lube as he pulls back behind the shower curtain and squeezes it out onto his fingers. He rubs his fingers together, warming it in his hand, as he flicks the lid back on the bottle and puts it off to the side. The steady thrum of the water against his back is enough to usher him to be quick.

With a small hum of noise, he drops his hand down behind himself, slides his fingers down the cleft of his ass and quickly sinks one lube soaked finger in to the first knuckle. He reaches out with his free hand to brace against the wall, spreading his stance wider to make everything just a little easier. Closing his eyes, he focuses on the stretch as he pushes his finger deeper, only to draw it out and immediately curl in the second finger alongside it. 

He scissors them without preamble, well aware of how much he can take and how fast. He knows that the stretch will be easy with how he worked himself open on two fingers to take a vibrator two days ago.

Dropping his head forward, he rests it against the arm he has braced up against the wall. He makes a noise in the back of his throat as he draws the digits free before pushing them back in. Working himself up to a rhythm, he sighs at the pleasant burn he can feel at the base of his spine, even if his cock is only vaguely twitching at the way he’s pressing his fingers into himself.

Adding the pressure of a third finger is finally enough to draw a groan from him, but he’s careful to avoid his prostate as he curls them inside. He twists his wrist, spreads his fingers, draws them out, before sinking them back in. The slide becomes easier with each thrust of his fingers and when there’s no resistance, he finally drags them free.

“Fuck,” he pants, rolling his wrist to work out the kinks. He shifts back util he’s under the spray again, reaching for the bar of soap to clean his hand and the excess lube dripping down the back of his thighs. Turning the water cold, he washes off the sweat and wait for his semi to go down, before shutting off the water.

Seonghwa reaches out from behind the curtain for a towel, before stepping out. He dries off quickly, hangs the towel neatly from the hook and stands at the sink to blow dry his hair. He runs his hand through the newly dyed blond strands, still finding himself thrown at just how drastically the lighter colour changes his appearance. There’s a moment of worry, that he brushes off without another thought.

“Okay,” he mutters, the words coming out soft and low in the quiet bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, watches the way his lips twitch up, unable to hide his excitement.

He laughs, short and sharp, before going back to the closet. There’s no hesitation as he pulls down two of the hangers, mind already set on what to wear. These he treats far more kindly than what he had been wearing, hands near reverent as he pulls the slacks off the hanger.

Changing into the outfit is an event. Slow and methodical. He steps into his underwear, a pair of socks. Pulls on the dark navy wool slacks, before pausing at the shirt. Laid out on the bed, it’s nothing short of devastating.

It’s a rich black lace, heavy enough that when held up to skin, only the barest hint peaks through. He slips into it, tugs the sleeves gently down to his wrists, before buttoning it up. He tucks the hem into his slacks, runs his hands down the fabric to make sure everything’s settled, before finally turning to face the full length mirror in the room.

The shirt had been taunting him for weeks from his closet, the one piece he hadn’t allowed himself to try on, not when it had been so recently gifted. He’d known it would be perfect and seeing it now, he wasn’t wrong.

It’s a perfect fit, fitting snug around his shoulders and waist. He can see the barest flashes of skin from under the lace, but it’s nothing too daring. It still looks like a well fitted dress shirt, with a nehru collar that fits snug around his throat and sits a bit higher than most would prefer it. He twists around, laughing when he sees how the back looks.

“You really are a danger.” The words slip out, unbidden, as he takes in the cutaway at his back. Right from the wings of his shoulders down to the small of his back, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. The back of his collar is tied together with two thick silk ribbons, ties that trail down to meet the cutaway and hang loose over the exposed curve of his spine.

It’s daring, something made entirely for him and no one else.

It screams _Hongjoong._

He unconsciously trails his fingers over the top of the collar, before slipping his finger between the fabric and his skin. He gives a gentle tug, the tightness of it making him go breathless and he wishes for a moment that he wasn’t standing in the hotel room alone.

Turning away from the mirror, he rummages around his bag for his phone. As soon as he connects to the hotels wifi, it dings loudly with incoming messages. He’s quick to find that most of them are from Wooyoung, a varying arrange of eggplant, peach and hand emojis. It’s enough to draw a snort from him, but he scrolls past them without replying. There’s a message from Jongho telling him to take a photo of the two of them and Yeosang telling him to have a good time.

San’s message is short, a simple: _“Make sure he takes a break too.”_

Seonghwa curls up in the armchair in the corner of the room and starts writing them back. Wooyoung he leaves on read, but the others he’s happy to send messages back to. He makes a promise to Jongho that he’ll take photos for him and he lets Yeosang know that he arrived safely. The message he sends to San is only two words, but he knows it’s the only answer San wants to hear. _“We will.”_

Once he’s messaged all the boys back, he drags up Hongjoong’s Instagram and catches up on all the photos he’s been taking since he arrived. He doesn’t know how long he spends scrolling, flipping between apps and messaging back and forth with Yeosang, but when he looks up at the sound of the lock on the door clicking, it’s started to get dark.

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when Hongjoong pushes open the door and steps in. He’s out of the chair before he can stop himself.

“Hey,” the words come out quiet, barely audible over the sound of the air conditioner. Hongjoong drops his bag, the door clicking shut behind him. He blinks owlishly from behind his glasses, before he’s stumbling across the room and Seonghwa has just enough time to open his arms before Hongjoong is wrapping around him.

“You’re an ass,” Hongjoong manages to push the words out, despite the way he has his face pressed into Seonghwa’s shoulder. Seonghwa laughs, burying one of his hands in Hongjoong’s hair and using the other to keep him close. “You weren’t supposed to be here until Friday.”

“Yeah, I thought it would be a nice surprise if I came early.” Even with Hongjoong’s glasses digging into his shoulder, he can’t bring himself to loosen his grip. Hongjoong only tightens his arms around his waist and Seonghwa can feel the way his shoulders sag the longer they stand there.

“Fuck I missed you,” Hongjoong’s voice comes out tired. It reminds Seonghwa of the times Hongjoong had come home after working with a particularly difficult client or when he had a deadline and had to stay late at his studio.

“Two weeks isn’t too long,” Seonghwa cards his hand through Hongjoong’s hair and it’s finally enough to get him to pull back the tiniest bit to look up. His glasses are sitting crooked on his face, but it doesn’t take away from the way he’s smiling.

“No, it’s not, but this isn’t home.” The admission has Seonghwa’s breath catching in his throat, all to familiar with the feeling. 

“Yeah, I know, our apartment’s been too quiet.”

Hongjoong nods, hands tracing up the exposed curve of Seonghwa’s back as he leans in to press his lips to the underside of his jaw. “You used my soap, I missed that too.”

“I was going to take you to dinner,” Seonghwa responds distractedly, tilting his head back as Hongjoong drags his teeth down the side of his neck. He can’t help the way his fingers tighten in Hongjoong’s hair when his tongue flicks out to lave over the skin he’d gently nipped at.

“We can still do that if you’re hungry,” Hongjoong offers, one of his hands settling on the small of Seonghwa’s back and the other on his waist. “I already ate.”

“I ate on the plane, so I’m fine.” There’s a moment where he pauses, loosening his grip on Hongjoong’s hair. “Knowing how you tend to get wrapped up in your projects, it was more to make sure that you had eaten something. How many nights have you skipped meals?”

“Room service doesn’t run late.” The quiet admittance is paired with Hongjoong’s shoulders sagging in defeat, and Seonghwa can’t stop himself from laughing. He lifts his hand, pinching at Hongjoong’s cheek, only for his hand to be swatted away. “I know, i know. If the kitchen was shut down, I shouldn’t have been working that late anyways.”

“Yunho’s going to have your head.”

“Fuck, no, please, anything but that. Don’t tell him,” Hongjoong groans, shifting so that his glasses aren’t digging into Seonghwa’s shoulder. “It hasn’t been that many nights, just three. I stopped at the convenience store on my way back. I could hear both Yunho and you in my head telling me that I need to take better care of myself.”

“I know, I can tell,” it’s easy to smile when Hongjoong leans back to squint up at him. He drops his hand from Hongjoong’s hair, before he reaches up with both hands and cups Hongjoong’s face between them. He smooths his thumbs over the soft skin under his eyes, “You’ve been sleeping.”

“I might have, but it doesn’t look like you have.”

“It was a long flight.”

“Fuck, yeah, the flight. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m tired, but I really missed you,” Seonghwa tilts Hongjoong’s head back and leans in slowly. He can feel Hongjoong’s quiet huff of laughter against his lips, before he’s pressing up to close the remaining distance quickly. Hongjoong’s lips are so so warm, and the tightness in his chest that has been there for weeks unfurls at the gentle press of them.

Some days they don’t see each other, some days they don’t even get to speak. It’s the reality of their jobs and their own need for independence. Going weeks without seeing Hongjoong though, it had made Seonghwa incredibly tense and he can feel the last edges of his weariness bleeding away. They may not need to be constantly be at each others sides, but hell if Seonghwa doesn’t love having him there.

“Get out of your head,” Hongjoong says against his lips, before he’s sucking Seonghwa’s bottom lip between his teeth. The hand he has at Seonghwa’s back moves upwards, nails dragging over the dip of his spine in a way that has Seonghwa shivering. He releases his lip, tongue flicking out to trace along it. “If you’re going to be here, be _here_.”

Seonghwa doesn’t bother answering, just kisses Hongjoong quiet, messy and nothing like the previous kiss. He licks into Hongjoong’s mouth, just to feel the way Hongjoong immediately sucks on his tongue. He shifts one of his hands from Hongjoong’s cheek to curl around the back of his neck, holding him in place.

He kisses Hongjoong like he’s been thinking about doing since he left.

Hongjoong steps into him and Seonghwa steps back to accommodate him, letting himself be led backwards when Hongjoong takes yet another step. It’s slow, neither of them willing to break the contact, even as their teeth clack when the back of Seonghwa’s legs knock against the bed.

When Hongjoong does finally pull away, Seonghwa’s left panting, eyes immediately dropping to how bruised Hongjoong’s lips look. Pretty and pink, and perfectly matching the faded colour of his hair. He’s striking, always so striking. Has been since the first moment Seonghwa saw him leaning over his worktable.

Hongjoong’s lips curl up into a smirk, settling his hand into the centre of Seonghwa’s chest and pushes him back against the bed. Seonghwa falls easily, shimmies a ways up the bed and sits up to watch the way Hongjoong crawls across the bed on his knees. The attention only makes Hongjoong’s gaze turn heavy, his pupils blown wide as he moves his way up to straddle Seonghwa’s lap.

“Hi,” Hongjoong greets him once he’s settled.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, but the smile on his face doesn’t fade. “Hi.”

“I really missed you,” this time the words aren’t laced with exhaustion. This time, Hongjoong punctuates the words by untucking the hem of his sheer black dress shirt and deftly undoing the buttons.

“Fuck you’re pretty,” Seonghwa can’t help the way the words tumble out of his mouth. He’s unable to take his eyes off the strip of skin he can now see from the way Hongjoong’s shirt is hanging off his shoulders, the glitter of his piercings catching the light to remind Seonghwa that they’re there. 

“I know,” Hongjoong says easily, throwing in a cocky little wink for good measures. He rolls his hips down and Seonghwa can feel that he’s hard. He gasps and it’s a startling revelation to realize just how he hard he is himself just from this.

Seonghwa reaches out, hands settling on Hongjoong’s waist, before dragging them up his ribs. 

“Oh fuck,” Hongjoong gasps, arching forward when he thumbs over the piercings glittering so prettily from his nipples. Seonghwa flicks his thumbs over them, smiling when he can feel the way Hongjoong’s hips jerk forward seeking contact. Hongjoong’s reaction is instantaneous, the way he grinds his hips down, pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth and wraps his hands around Seonghwa’s wrists. Lulling his head back, Hongjoong’s hips stutter as Seonghwa catches his nails on the piercings and gently tugs at them.

“You keep that up and I’m going to be useless to you,” Hongjoong states, breathing in sharply when Seonghwa circles his thumbs over his nipples, keeping an uneven pace of going faster and then slower. Seonghwa gives a hum of acknowledgement, knows Hongjoong means he can come like this, untouched, if Seonghwa keeps going.

“I know,” Seonghwa says, simply. He pinches at his nipples, just to see the way Hongjoong ruts down into his lap with a whine. 

“Fuck off,” Hongjoong laughs, shoving Seonghwa’s hands away. He falls forward to nip at Seonghwa’s bottom lip, teeth sharp and in no way delicate. He braces his hands against his chest and Seonghwa is so desperately aware that if he wasn’t wearing the shirt Hongjoong had made for him, Hongjoong would be digging his nails in. He wants so desperately to, Seonghwa can feel it in the way his fingers tense as they slide up to rest against his shoulders.

A tilt of his head and Hongjoong follows, lips sliding together with practiced ease. Seonghwa settles his hands back on Hongjoong’s hips, drags him forward and down into his lap, both of them gasping at the contact. It’s not enough, not for how long it’s been for them.

Hongjoong reaches behind Seonghwa, fingers nimbly working at the ribbon holding the back of his collar closed, attempting to untie it. Seonghwa can’t help the way he reaches up to drag his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair, twisting it between his fingers to jerk Hongjoong back enough that he can suck a mark under the curve of his jaw.

There’s a moment where Hongjoong needs to brace his hands back on Seonghwa’s shoulders, sucking in a breath as Seonghwa bites at the mark he’s just made. Hongjoong rocks down into Seonghwa’s lap, a small grunt of noise escaping him as he unclenches his fingers from over top of Seonghwa’s shoulders and goes back to unthreading the ribbon from the lace collar.

“You’re making this way more difficult than it should be.” Hongjoong’s laugh takes all seriousness out of the words. Seonghwa quickly relents, presses a quick kiss to the gentle curve of Hongjoong’s lips, before he holds himself still, letting Hongjoong work out the ribbon uninterrupted. It’s worth it, to see the way Hongjoong bites his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates.

“Got it.”

Pulling his hands back between them, he holds the thick strip of ribbon between his fingers, smiling at his own success at finally finishing. It takes everything in Seonghwa not to roll them over, to cup Hongjoong’s face between his hands and kiss him breathless.

His lips twist up in a soft smile, faded red hair mussed from where Seonghwa’s hands have been carding through it and his glasses skewed on his nose. He’s the prettiest thing Seonghwa’s ever seen and in the year and a half they’ve been together, he still finds himself shocked that he’s lucky enough to have this. “I love you.”

Hongjoong pauses and cocks his head, his smile only growing in response. “I love you too.”

The ribbon slips from Hongjoong’s hands and gently, he starts unbuttoning Seonghwa’s shirt. It’s enough to cause Seonghwa to cock his head in curiosity, wondering just why he’d untied the back of the collar, when he was just going to unbutton the shirt in the end. He knows Hongjoong well, but his idiosyncrasies always have Seonghwa storing away another new piece of him along the way.

As soon as he has the last button done, he backs off, slides off the bed with the shirt carefully held in his hands. Seonghwa watches him, eyes on the way he walks over to the closet and hangs the shirt. He hooks it back up and when he turns back to face Seonghwa, he quirks a brow. “Why are you still wearing pants?”

“We’ll need the lube,” Seonghwa says in response. Hongjoong laughs, but takes the hint and turns towards the bathroom. When he pops back out of the bathroom, Seonghwa’s pushed himself up off the bed and started sliding his slacks down his hips. He steps out of them easily, kicks off his underwear with a lot less patience and takes the time to fold his pants neatly. Holding them out, Hongjoong accepts them, pressing the bottle of lube into his hand in exchange.

While Hongjoong goes to hang up his pants, he falls back onto the bed, hiking one of his legs up so that his foots resting on the edge of the mattress. Opening the lube up, he drizzles more onto his fingers, listening for the telltale sound of Hongjoong’s reaction. He doesn’t have to wait long.

He hears the creak of the closet door and then there’s a sharp inhale. Seonghwa looks up then, dropping the bottle of lube beside him on the bed and then lowering his lube slicked fingers down between his thighs. He sinks two fingers into himself like it’s nothing, smiling at the way Hongjoong’s focus seems to narrow in on the movement of his hand.

He arches his back, makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and works them back out, before pressing them in deep. Working himself open earlier was worth it, for the way he can hear Hongjoong curse. This time, as he pumps his fingers into himself though, he curls them, presses down where he’s been wanting them all night and moans at the sharp bolt of pleasure that tears through him.

“Hongjoong,” his name comes out breathless. He’s not begging, but there’s clear want in his voice.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he barely catches what Hongjoong says, but he’s conditioned to listen for the soft sound of his voice. The compliment has him twisting his fingers, toes curling as he makes a show of himself.

The bed dips and Seonghwa drags his eyes open, unsure of just when they’d fluttered closed. Hongjoong’s still watching the way he angles his fingers, but another small moan is enough for him to drag his attention upwards. He blinks, and Seonghwa vaguely notes that he’s taken his glasses off. 

He stretches and for a moment, Seonghwa thinks he’s going to lean down and kiss him.

Instead, he stretches out further, drawing back with that ribbon in his hands. He tilts his head, eyes on the heavy black fabric, easily two fingers thick, in his hands. He holds it up, an unasked question on his face. Seonghwa nods, doesn’t need him to ask out loud, because now he gets it, knows what Hongjoong wants.

“Yeah, that’s okay, baby.” He trembles in expectation, fingers never slowing, even as Hongjoong leans back over him. He does kiss him this time, gentle and short. He pulls back with a grin and Seonghwa isn’t given any more time to think, before he’s guiding the ribbon over his eyes.

Seonghwa closes his eyes, lifts his head enough that Hongjoong can tie it behind him.

It’s not something they’ve done before, but finding himself blindfolded, Seonghwa finds that he doesn’t entirely mind. As soon as it’s tied, Hongjoong has both of his hands on him; one hand settles on his hiked knee and the other on his hip. His fingers twitch when Hongjoong drags the hand on his knee down his thigh and he realizes that he’s stopped moving his fingers to focus on Hongjoong’s touch instead.

Those two points are the only thing he can think about, especially as the hand tracing down his thigh curls along the inside of his leg, before moving to settle over the hand Seonghwa has between his legs. Hongjoong spreads his fingers over the back of his hand, moving it until the pads of his fingers are brushing over his perineum.

Seonghwa bites at the inside of his cheek, tries to pick up any sound, any shift in movement from Hongjoong. Now that he can’t see him, he’s desperate for those little pieces.

One of Hongjoong’s fingers catches along his rim, before he’s pressing it in alongside Seonghwa’s own two. It sinks in easily and Seonghwa can hear the hitch in his breath.

“You didn’t even need to finger yourself,” there’s laughter in Hongjoong’s voice, but Seonghwa knows him well enough to recognize it as awe. 

“I worked myself open in the shower, but I didn’t want you to miss out.” He answers easily, pulling his fingers free, before guiding them back in. Hongjoong’s hand moves with his and when the three fingers sink in, he gives a pleased moan.

“You’re wonderful,” the bed shifts and the hand on his hip disappears, only to return against his cheek. Hongjoong kisses him, keeps it to a soft press of lips, before he’s tugging Seonghwa’s hand out from between his legs. “I would really like to fuck you, if you’re okay with that.”

“I didn’t take a sixteen hour flight for you to not fuck me.” Seonghwa can’t help the way the words come out, amused and pleased at the respect Hongjoong still shows him. “Come on Hongjoong, I’ve missed you.”

“Alright, alright.”

He wonders if Hongjoong is going to tease, will draw it out, but the thought is quickly dashed away by the sound of Hongjoong opening what Seonghwa assumes is a condom wrapper.

Hongjoong taps his fingers again Seonghwa’s hips in a silent request that has Seonghwa shifting on the bed enough that Hongjoong can crawl between his legs without having to resort to getting off the bed. He hooks his arm under one of Seonghwa’s legs, before moving in, pressing his lips over Seonghwa’s abdomen and up the center of his chest as he moves in closer.

There’s a tug at the makeshift blindfold, before it’s fluttering off and Seonghwa blinks as he takes in Hongjoong’s smiling face. His cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown wide and his smile has Seonghwa’s breath catching in his throat. Hongjoong leans in and kisses him, open mouthed and nothing more than their lips pressing together.

Seonghwa feels him nudge the head of his cock against him and he arches his back, presses down into the contact and moans against his lips. He reaches out, digs his hands into the shirt hanging off of Hongjoong’s back and pulls him in tight. He can’t help but laugh, recognizes the fact that Hongjoong didn’t take the time to strip fully as his own impatience.

“Oh fuck,” Seonghwa groans as Hongjoong finally presses into him with no hesitation. He’s fingers tear at Hongjoong’s shirt, material bunching in his hands as he sinks in until he’s achingly full. He goes tense, body curving at the feel of him sliding in and he bites back a groan at how good it feels.

“Hwa,” Hongjoong buries his face into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, biting as the curve. He keeps still, waits for Seonghwa to give him some kind of sign that he’s okay to move. Seonghwa exhales, unclenches one of his hands so that he can drop it down to cup Hongjoong’s cheek, bite at his bottom lip and hooks the one leg Hongjoong isn’t holding up around his waist. It’s the only sign he needs, because as soon as he does, Hongjoong rolls his hips back and then fucks back into him.

Seonghwa practically keens at the movement, cock dripping messily over his own stomach, too turned on to care that he’s already close to coming. Two weeks of being on edge and not getting off, even if he’d wanted to, saved for this moment right here. It has him digging his heel into Hongjoong’s hip, attempting to pull him in tighter as he arches his back and tries to grind back down into his touch.

He clenches around Hongjoong, listens to the pretty little moan it pulls from him and how his automatic reaction is to drive back into him, rocking them down against the bed. He buries himself deep at the same time that he hikes Seonghwa’s leg up higher, and Seonghwa wails at the change in angle. 

“There he is,” Hongjoong groans as he pushes back in, fucking the breath out of Seonghwa.

“Hongjoong, please,” Seonghwa gasps, tangling one of his hands in Hongjoong’s hair. Hongjoong nods jerkily, but wraps a hand around Seonghwa’s cock, using the precome dripping down his length to slick the way. His fingers don’t wrap entirely around him, but he doesn’t need that, not when Hongjoong thumbs at the head of his cock, before he drags his fingers down in a tight circle. He matches the slide of his fingers to the thrust of his hips, picking up to a steady pace.

They’re already sweat slicked, the air conditioner doing nothing to cool how hot Seonghwa feels as Hongjoong rocks into him again and again.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong’s voice comes out desperate. It’s enough for Seonghwa, enough to have his back bowing as his fingers drag across Hongjoong’s back. He comes on a wordless moan, an attempt at Hongjoong’s name that gets cut off in a low drawn out noise. He clamps down around him, feels every muscle in his body go tight as he tries to pull Hongjoong in as close as he can get him.

Vaguely he hears Hongjoong choke on a moan, before he’s rutting down into him, rather than continuing with his sweeping thrusts, but he can barely focus past the way he feels.

When he finally feels like he can breathe again, he has enough time to inhale, before Hongjoong’s dropping his weight down onto him. He gives a small whine of protest, but wraps his arms around Hongjoong regardless, keeping him there.

They lay there for a while, before Hongjoong finally pushes himself up and slides free. Seonghwa winces, but a tired smile still makes its way onto his face. Hongjoong pauses there, looking down at him with an expression so soft that Seonghwa feels something in his stomach flip. A shake of his head and Hongjoong leans forward, presses his lips to his forehead, before he’s slipping off the bed and trailing off to the bathroom.

Seonghwa can hear the rustle of clothes and then the tap, as he tugs at the blankets on the bed to cover himself. He curls up in the middle of the bed, the last of his energy spent and leaving him with nothing but exhaustion. He only holds on for the fact that Hongjoong isn’t here with him, isn’t curled around him.

So he waits, trying to stay awake as he keeps his eyes trained on the bathroom door.

When Hongjoong finally comes back, he’s stripped out of his clothes and has a damp cloth in his hand. He shuffles over quickly, pulling back the blankets only enough to slide underneath them. He uses the cloth to wipe down Seonghwa’s hand and the inside of his thighs. It’s rough, nothing like the cloths they have at home, but it’s far better than actually getting up. He mumbles out a sound that Hongjoong seems to accept as thanks, as he throws the cloth to the floor and crawls in as close as he can get.

He kisses Seonghwa’s bare shoulder, before curling around him, tangling their legs around one another His hand pets through Seonghwa’s hair, as he brushes their foreheads together. “You dyed your hair.”

“Mhm,” it’s all he can muster, all he can push past the exhaustion. He shifts closer into Hongjoong, buries his nose in the soft curve of his shoulder and finally settles. He doesn’t try to keep his eyes open, lets them flutter shut as Hongjoong continues to comb his fingers through his hair.

“It looks good, you look good. I really missed you,” Hongjoong’s voice comes out quiet. Seonghwa flexes his fingers against him, wishes that they could be closer, even if there’s already no space left between them. “I love you.”

“You too,” he manages to say and the way the words come out slurred pull a small chuckle from Hongjoong. It makes him smile, the warm familiar call of his laughter.

The room falls into silence and for the first time in weeks, Seonghwa feels like he’s home. For the first time in weeks, he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Grem drew Hwa from this fic and I am in LOVE! Please check it out [here](https://twitter.com/gremlingrumblin/status/1210676859471568897)! They're an absolute sweetheart who deserves the world. A+ would recommend this friendo. ;A; 
> 
> If you want to come talk to me about these boys, possible prompts or just... anything at all: you can find me over at [twitter](https://twitter.com/Elesteria). I'm always down to chat at new people! You can also find me at [curiouscat](https://t.co/1yfgiUBE0r) if you have any thoughts, prompts or stuff that you're too nervous to say in public.


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